What Is In a Name? The Lake Family

I recently got a message from someone who, the last time I talked to, I had to give the gravest of news. It was a call less than a minute long. I think it was a week or two from when it happened, “Can I talk to Jim?” “I’m sorry, he has passed away. Who is this?” My heart sunk when I heard the name. Dad had been caring for this kid off-and-on for at least a year or two. He was a troubled junior higher when my dad started to come alongside and help his family both through his capacity as a deacon at church, but with this family, this kid, Dad went further than others who helped. They didn’t live close or on the way to church. That didn’t matter. There were problems at home that didn’t matter. There were problems at school, didn’t matter. He knew that going in. Dad devoted himself to helping this family.

This wasn’t particularly new to our family. Over the years, my earliest memories were filled with us moving single moms to new apartments or doing work projects for disabled people seeking help from our church. We had a generous benevolence fund, but the church’s financial support was often coupled with some Lake sweat. It was not uncommon to hear my dad on the phone with this utility or that insurance company working on behalf of someone seeking help at our church. Our family was at the vanguard of the Church’s hands and feet.

I got a message today. I wasn’t expecting it. I have not heard from him since that hard call almost 15 years ago. Shared with permission, of course.

My first thought was the recall of a staff meeting at a youth camp in Slovakia. In the meeting, we were reminded that the fruit of our labor in youth ministry is often never seen, often not manifested for years afterward. I don’t know when you were able to right the path in your life, but I am privileged to have been a part of it, even as an observer. My second thought was the privilege it was to come from a family who has taught such a creed. My family is one of Christians. It is an important part of who we are and what that means. There are many movies and books where a fatherless child must find his way and figure out who he is and who he will become. Dad told us when we were 12; his job was to prepare us to be men. I didn’t know that job would come to a halt days before my 19th birthday, but there was never a question of what it meant to be a Lake man. That was modeled a day in and day out for years. It was not perfect, as none of us are or were perfect, but it was always clear who we were.

I am grateful for those countless hours we spent working in the backyard and around the house. We were taught everything from falling a tree and installing a sidewalk to the proper way to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I am grateful for the work ethic instilled in us at such an early age. We didn’t have money, nice clothes, or grand vacations. We had a family. Thank you for this reminder.